


Don't Tease Me

by WritingByKy



Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: (it’s a midday quickie in a closet - does that count?), Blow Jobs, Deleted Scenes, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, highway to the danger zone, it's not that deep, no gay panic here folx - just a dude blowing another dude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-24 17:55:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15635784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingByKy/pseuds/WritingByKy
Summary: You know that throwaway "this gives me a hard on"/"don't tease me" exchange? Yeah, I wrote that fic. See notes for shame and disbelief.





	Don't Tease Me

**Author's Note:**

> I was shocked to discover that this particular fic doesn’t already exist, so I took it upon myself to write it (one night after I got drunk and watched this homoerotic excuse for an action movie). I can’t believe I’m writing Top Gun fanfic in this, the year of our lord 20-fucking-18, but here we are.

Video after video plays, each one the same - jets getting shot down, careening into the ground, exploding. It’s all very dramatic, Wolfman thinks. It sets his blood pumping in a way few things do, and _God_ , does he just want to fly now.

Unable to stop himself, Wolfman inclines his head toward Hollywood without taking his eyes off the screen and, as seriously as he can muster, says, “This gives me a hard-on.”

From his reclined position, Hollywood rolls his head to fix Wolfman with an easy look. “Don’t tease me,” he replies lazily, despite the glint in his eye. Smirking, Wolfman finally manages to tear his eyes away from the fiery display to throw Hollywood a wink.

They finish the lesson in relative silence after that, and finally, they’re all free to return to their quarters for the evening. Toward the back of the group of pilots, Hollywood and Wolfman are walking side-by-side. Wolfman is idly wondering about the dinner menu when Hollywood grabs him by the wrist. Before he knows it, he’s being pushed through the nearest door, and Hollywood is pulling it shut behind them. It only takes a second for Wolfman to recognize it as the small broom closet near the mess hall.

“Hollywood, what’s-” is all he manages to get out before Hollywood is in his space, crowding him against the opposite wall and smiling impishly.

“I told you not to tease me, didn’t I?” Hollywood says softly against his left ear, pressing his hand to the center of Wolfman’s chest. The proximity of his voice sends a shiver down Wolfman’s spine. It isn’t entirely unpleasant. “Now shut up. Unless you want someone to hear.”

Wolfman is pretty sure he understands what Hollywood is implying, which is just as well because he doesn’t have time to ask before Hollywood crashes their mouths together. The kiss is bruising and uncoordinated, but Wolfman can hardly bring himself to mind when there’s the warm weight of Hollywood’s hand resting against his hip and a thigh slotted between his own. 

Hollywood drops his other hand to Wolfman’s belt with a whispered, “Okay?”

“Christ, now you ask me? Yes, okay. Very okay,” Wolfman huffs, much to Hollywood’s amusement.

“Well, excuse me for checking. Feeling a little impatient?” Hollywood asks in faux concern, continuing to unbuckle Wolfman’s belt with one hand and pinching his side with the other. The wicked smirk has returned to his face and Wolfman feels the sudden urge to kiss it off of him. 

So he does.

Infuriatingly, Hollywood laughs into the kiss, but it isn’t long before he pulls away again to sink to his knees. Wolfman’s stomach lurches at the motion, filled with anticipation. He feels his pulse start to race when Hollywood shimmies Wolfman’s trousers down just enough to get to his already half-hard cock.

Hollywood presses a forefinger to his lips - _stay quiet_. Then, without warning, he wraps a hand around the base of Wolfman’s cock and drags his tongue up the length of it, before taking the head into his mouth. Wolfman inhales sharply, biting back a moan as Hollywood works him to full hardness. He gets that sudden plummeting feeling again, surprised by the surge of arousal in his lower abdomen. It’s almost like being in free-fall. Honestly, he thinks it might be even better.

Wolfman leans his back against the wall behind him, dropping one hand to thread his fingers through Hollywood’s perfectly coiffed hair. Hollywood’s small noise of annoyance is worth it, especially when Wolfman makes him moan around his cock by clenching his fingers just enough for Hollywood to feel the sharp tug at his scalp.

Hollywood continues to work his mouth around Wolfman’s length, quick under the threat of being caught, and ruthlessly efficient. The sensation is almost on the edge of too much, but this is how he likes it - adrenaline-fueled and dirty. Knowing anyone could walk through the unlocked door does nothing to stave off Wolfman’s arousal, if the racing of his heart and pit in his stomach are anything to go by. Really, he finds it exciting rather than frightening.

And then Wolfman is feeling the build and build and _build_ in his lower abdomen, and his hips involuntarily stutter forward - a warning that’s he’s on the brink. At that, Hollywood draws his mouth back to firmly press his tongue against the underside of the over-sensitive head.

Wolfman brings one hand up to his face to stifle the undignified noise he makes, but it’s difficult to feel appropriately embarrassed about it when Hollywood’s mouth is hot and wet and so, _so_ good. 

“Fuck, ‘Wood. ‘Wood, I’m gonna-” Wolfman whispers in an exhaled rush, before Hollywood hums in acknowledgement. It doesn’t take much - Wolfman is so goddamn close already - and then he’s coming into Hollywood’s mouth. 

In his post-orgasm haze, Wolfman is vaguely aware of hearing Hollywood spit into a nearby wastebasket before rising to his feet again. After taking a moment to catch his breath, Wolfman asks, “You want me to-”

“Nah,” Hollywood cuts him off, “I’m good. You can get me back later. Some of us aren’t so easily aroused by flying patterns and explosions.”

“Hey, Hollywood,” Wolfman says. “Shut the fuck up.” But it lacks any real malice.


End file.
